CHAPTER FIVE:

An ambulance and police cars showed up once again. The red and blue lights flashing. They were probably sick of coming here and getting suspicious. It couldn't look good. Four people dying in the same hotel in the past week. Yeah, that definitely didn't sound good.

A coroner and a EMT lifted Rose's body up into the back of the car. Ms. Thompson watched. She held tightly on to Tyler's bony, little hand. Dean and Sam stepped forward to talk to the poor woman. I walked over, my bag around my shoulder.

"The paramedics said it was another stroke," Susan explained.

A grim countenance settled on all of our faces. Sam seemed especially even more upset.

"You think...Margaret could've had something to do with it?" she asked. Her voice full of terror.

"We don't know," Dean answered.

"But yeah, it's possible," Sam said. "I'm sorry Susan."

She looked at him, full of sincere. "You have something to apologize for. You've given me everything." She turned towards Tyler. "Ready to go, kiddo?"

"Yeah."

"Tyler?" Dean asked. "You sure Maggie's not here anymore?"

She nodded. "I'm sure. I'd see her."

He looked towards Sam and I. "I guess whatever's going on...it must be over."

"It appears so," I agreed.

"You two take care of yourselves," Sam said, sticking out his hand. Susan grabbed it and hug him close.

"Thank you." She pulls away, and looked at Dean and I. "All of you."

"I didn't really do much," I muttered under my breath.

What had I done? Nothing that deserved credit.

Susan and Tyler got into a cab and waved through the window as the taxi drove off.

Sam turned to me. "So where are you heading now?"

"That depends, do I have an invitation to join you?" I went for it.

Sam and Dean looked at each other. If Dean hadn't brought it up yet, then Sam still had no idea we were related. It might be a good time to talk about it now.

"Follow us," Dean demanded. "We'll bring you to Bobby's."

I got in my Honda and drove for almost five hours before we came to a stop. I had gone through my mother's old John Mayer CD about six times. She used to blast it in the car when I was little, singing along. I would always try to sing along to, but I never knew the right words

We stopped at a gas station and I sighed with relief. I stepped out of the car to stretch my legs. Dean was inside buying road-trip food, while Sam pumped gas.

Sam glanced over at me. "So, your our sister?"

"Dean's told you, eh?" I guessed.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I was getting to it."

"From what I can tell, you check out."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, it's good to know I'm not faking."

Dean came out, waving a newspaper in the air. "Found a case. In Columbus, Ohio."

"What about her?" Sam asked, nodding in my direction.

"What about me?" I asked, crossing my arms. "I can handle another job."

"She can do whatever she wants," Dean said, a hint of anger in his voice. Had I done something? I knew I could be annoying, but we had barely talked.

"But you're not leaving the motel room," Sam declared. "You're not ready."

"Woah," Dean said, butting in. "You actually plan to train her? To be a hunter?!"

"Yeah, why not?" Sam asked. "She could be helpfully."

"And get her killed."

A sting of hurt lingered around and in my body, and I wasn't sure why I felt so offended. I didn't want to do this if it was going to get me killed, I definitely wasn't strong or brave enough. Monsters had scared me as a child, leaving me with nightmares. I was still frightened. Back at the inn though, I had felt barely any fear at all. Maybe I was still too deep in shock about my family to feel anything. It all just felt like one big nightmare, or movie. And soon it'll be over. But this one might not end with a happy ending.

"Well, of course we'd never actually put her into harm's way."

"I still don't like it," Dean muttered.

"Didn't you say that 'saving people, hunting things' was the family business?" Sam stated. "She is a Winchester."

"Her last name is Casey. There's a difference."

"I don't see one."

"So how about this case?" I asked, dying to change the subject.

Dean opened up the newspaper, setting it on down on the hood of his car. "Alright. A family died all last week. It says the father shot his wife and kids, before hanging himself."

"So, he's a crazy dad," Sam questioned. "What's so supernatural about that?"

"He was the mayor of the city-"

"Just because he's the mayor doesn't mean he can't be criminally insane," I stated. "Have you seen One Tree Hill?"

The two men shook their heads. I wouldn't have thought so.

Dean continued on. "Here, it says he was loved by everyone in the town. Had won a hundred-percent of the votes during election time."

"Now, that seems suspicious."

"So what are we thinking?" Sam asked. "Crossroad demon?"

"But his death and actions don't seem to make sense with regular hell hounds?" Dean challenged.

"Super hell hounds?" Sam offered, though that didn't sound right. "Maybe he did it so that he couldn't be killed by the hell hounds. Maybe he went to Heaven."

"Uh," Dean breathed out, impressed. "Smart guy."

I watched the two go back and forth, trying to figure the case out. I had yet to know what a crossroad demon or a hell hound was. There had been no mention yet in the Carver Edlund books. I thought about bringing them up, but decided against it. Now would just seem random, and most likely inappropriate.

We got back into our cars with around three more hours to drive. Dean had sped up though, going more and more passed the speed limit. I was having trouble following him. But it got us there in half of the time it normally would take. So there was that plus side.

We pulled into a motel parking lot that looked alright from the outside. But the inside made me feel as if I had bugs crawling all over me. Dean and Sam however, seemed pleased by the roach-crawling, spider-loving, and lice-covered pillows. I was definitely not sleeping tonight.

Dean bounced down on to one out of the two beds, spreading out. "Dibs."

"Thea, you can have the other bed," Sam said. "I'll take the couch."

"I'm okay," I murmured. "I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight."

I just couldn't wait to head to this Mr. Bobby. I really hoped he kept his house ten-times cleaner than a motel room.

"It's all in your head," Dean tried to explain to me. "We've been doing this our whole life. We're fine!"

"I can't believe that you don't have scabies."

Dean rolled over, turning his back towards me. "Okay princess."

I ignored that and sat down in one of the wooden chairs at the matching kitchenette table.

Sam glanced over at me. "You really aren't going to take the bed?"

I shook my head. "I'll sleep in my car. Whatever." I pulled out my car keys.

"Goodnight," Sam called out after me.

I unlocked the doors, slid into the backseat, then locked them back up. Who knew what time of people were around here? I didn't need to be robbed, kidnapped, or murdered. I threw a blanket that I had found in the trunk over my body, curling up in a ball to cover the majority of myself from neck down.

And that night I dreamed, more like nightmared, the same one from the night before. I was back in my high school, the bodies around me still dead, and my family sat at the table, being showered in blood. But this time, I noticed something new. Stabbed in the center of my heart was what appeared to be a kitchen knife, but damn was it sharp. It was poking out from the backside of my body. Blood began to spread, from my heart on, soaking my shirt completely in the thick, red liquid.